


In the Ruins of Paradise

by Setcheti



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s01e25 This Side of Paradise, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 15:46:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3452861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setcheti/pseuds/Setcheti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A week after leaving Omicron Ceti III, McCoy has a talk with Spock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Ruins of Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> I've been a Trekkie for most of my life - since the days when that word wasn't an insult _inside_ the fan community. And I loved Spock, and because of the way he portrayed Spock I loved Leonard Nimoy. I had his album, _Two Sides of Leonard Nimoy_ , started reading Heinlein because of his audio recording of "The Green Hills of Earth", and watched anything I heard he was going to be in. And you never heard anyone complain about him, or at least I never did. He was just awesome, and he just kept getting more awesome as he got older. 
> 
> He died yesterday, and I'm not blogging anywhere right now so I didn't have any other place to put this, so I thought I'd post the one TOS story I have and put it here. RIP, Mr. Nimoy. We miss you already.

The first officer of the starship _Enterprise_ walked into Sickbay with a tread that sounded ever so faintly annoyed and an attitude that projected itself as ever so faintly confrontational.  “Doctor McCoy,” he stiffly addressed the room’s sole other occupant.  “You sent for me?”

The doctor didn’t visibly react to the annoyance or the attitude.  “I did.  I needed to talk to you about something.”  McCoy walked back around to the other side of his desk, putting it between them.  “It has come to my attention that we have a slight...personnel problem on the bridge, Mr. Spock,” he said evenly.  “Namely, the first officer has been considerably cool towards the captain for nearly a week now and it is having a deleterious effect on morale as well as on both of their performances.”  He raised an eyebrow and dropped the professional voice for one more familiar.  “Still holding it against him for yanking you out of paradise, aren’t you?”

Spock stiffened even more, looking vaguely offended.  “That supposition is illogical, Doctor.  Vulcans do not hold grudges.  The captain was merely...”

“Doing his duty,” McCoy finished for him.  He sounded tired.  “That he was, Mr. Spock – and now he’s kicking himself for it, because of you and the grudge you’re not holding.  I want you to hear something.”  He pushed a button on his terminal.  “Voice identification access, Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer.  Captain’s log 141.09.”

The computer hummed, then beeped its agreement and Kirk’s voice suddenly sounded from the speaker on the desk.  _Captain’s log, Stardate 141. 9.  I am the sole remaining crew member aboard the ship; the rest have all beamed down to the colony below.  Mutiny...I never realized just how big this ship really is...or how silent...I am trapped here, in exile..._

“Computer pause,” McCoy ordered softly.  He didn’t look up.  “You heard it, right?”

“I heard.”  The attitude was gone.  Spock’s voice was a bare, gruff whisper.  “He sounded...broken.”

“I’m pretty sure he was.”  The doctor shook his head.  “I think part of him still is, even though he’s burying it as deep as he can.  He did what he had to do, what Starfleet would have ordered him to do if we hadn’t cut him off from them too.  Jim saw himself as rescuing us from slavery; he didn’t, he _couldn’t_ consider the effect being freed from the control of the spores would have on you personally.”  He sighed.  “He left the supplemental log running when he beamed you up from the surface, so I know what he did to bring you out of it.  He noted beforehand that he knew making you angry enough to lose control could kill him, but he also knew he had no other choice.”

Spock nodded slowly.  “He would have made such a record to absolve me of responsibility should that have occurred.  He has done such things in the past”

It was McCoy’s turn to nod, and this time he did look up.  His blue eyes were piercing.  “You have to forgive him, Spock.  Even if you never say the words...he’ll know.  I may hassle you sometimes about having no emotions, but I know you do have them where Jim is concerned.  And you’re hurting him, and he was hurting enough already without that.”

“I can see that now, yes.”  Spock’s voice was even again, and someone who didn’t know him well would have seen nothing but impassive agreement in his angular face; McCoy wasn’t one of those someones, he saw the anguish in the depths of those dark eyes and was infinitely relieved by it.  “I thank you for bringing this to my attention, Doctor.  I will consider the best way to act on your suggestion.”

“I knew you would, Spock.”  McCoy smiled slightly.  “You’re a very reasonable man, when you want to be.”

“I shall take that as a compliment.”  The Vulcan turned and walked back the way he’d come in, but he paused at the door and glanced back over his shoulder as it hissed open in front of him.  “I have on occasion accused you of dabbling in psychology when your medical strengths lie elsewhere,” he said.  “For the record, Doctor…I retract those statements.”

And then he was gone.  McCoy dropped into his desk chair with a sigh, and then he snorted softly.  “It may not be paradise, but that’s close enough for me.”


End file.
